Blackbird
by glitterbell
Summary: Sgt. Edward Cullen wakes up missing one leg and doesn't know what to think. His physical therapist Bella has quite the challenging patient in her newest amputee. She's sure she can get him moving again, but it's everything else she may not be prepared for
1. Prologue

**This is my first attempt at fanfiction and I am so excited to share it with everyone! **

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Except my little story… I own that!**

Fucking hell it was hot.

For as long as I'd been stuck in this god forsaken desert in this god forsaken country, I still hadn't gotten used to the heat. Well, actually, I'd gotten used to the heat. I just hadn't gotten used to walking 5 miles in my gear, boots, helmet and pack while carrying my gun in the heat.

That shit's heavy.

The good news was that word around camp seemed to be that our unit might be in the next wave to receive orders for withdrawl from Afghanistan. For the past few months troops had been pulling out and shipping back home, and whether it would happen in the next wave or a few months from now, I knew I would be home within the year regardless.

But for now we were still stuck in business as usual, completing our current assignments. Most, like today's, involved patrolling the volatile Korengal Valley, just outside of the city of Asadabad. Once an extremely dangerous area that acted as no man's land between the peaceful villagers and dangerous militia troops, the Korengal Valley had been fairy docile recently. We were still sent out on these patrol missions frequently in an attempt to keep it that way.

Today's patrol had been fairly non eventful. The only excitement came when a local farmer blocking the roadway with his goats had been reluctant to move to make way for the humvees.

Not that I was complaining. I mean, not complaining about the uneventfulness. I was certainly complaining about the heat.

"Hey Cullen, you see that movement up in the field over there?" Sgt. Riley Biers, my closest friend in the unit was a friend from my days at West Point. I looked out toward the area he was indicating.

"Just wait for it. I swear I saw something running in the grass out there." He said. "Right over by that clump of trees." Just as he narrowed down the location I did detect some movement.

"Yeah Biers, I saw it. I'll go alert Command Sergeant Benjamin." I replied, trying to ignore the stifling heat as I trotted up ahead to his humvee.

"Sir, Sergeant Biers and I detect movement at 9:00, possible threat, permission to investigate." I spoke to Command Sgt. Benjamin through the open window of his vehicle.

"Permission granted. Take Private Scott and Private Peters with you." He told me, signaling the rest of the caravan to a halt.

I trotted back over to Biers and gathered Scott and Peters and we made our way slowly out towards the cluster of trees where we had seen the movement.

"I swear to god, if this turns out to be another fucking crazy ass animal I've never heard of I'm going to kill you both." Pvt. Peters said, basically voicing the thoughts we all were having.

"Better crazy ass animals than crazy ass Afghans." Biers told him as we came up on our intended area.

We spread out, forming a perimeter around the area. Moving in calculated synchrony we carefully explored our surroundings for anything out of the ordinary, most notably Afghan militants waiting in the landscape to blow our brains out.

From my position I noted further movement within the trees just to my right. Using hand signals to communicate with my men I signaled to them where I detected a possible threat and we needed to stealthily move in.

As we edged closer we heard a rustling in the direction we were headed, followed by a short bark of a dog. Shouting, we drew our guns in the direction and demanded for whomever was hiding to show himself.

When there was no answer, I lead the team in closer, only to find that there was in fact a dog in the trees. A malnourished black mutt was whining and circling around two boys, both who looked to be teenagers. It was easy to determine that these boys were not threats, but seriously injured and in hiding.

"How did you get hurt?" I demanded. "Who did this? Are they still in the area?" The boys appeared to have been beaten pretty severely.

They replied brokenly that they had been attacked while walking the road with their crops, taking them to the market to sell, which was an unfortunately common occurrence.

"Biers to caravan, we have two natives, injured but non threatening. Medical needed." Biers radioed to the rest of the patrol back at the humvees.

Then, just as the two medics came running into our vicinity, I got the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something bad was going to happen.

That's when the world blew up.

All the wind was knocked out of my lungs as I flew off my feet, blasted into the air and landing harshly on my side.

As I barely maintained consciousness, trying to take in the now fiery world around me and the extent of my injuries, if I was even still alive, I could only think one thing.

Fucking hell it was hot.

Well, just before I blacked out I did register one other thought.

My leg is gone.

**This story is a complete work of fiction! While I have researched everything I put in this story, I don't claim to know everything there is to know about military life, physical therapy or what it's like to be an amputee. **

**I will try to update weekly, but I am in grad school so I can't be held responsible if I miss a week… take it up with my professors!**

**Please please please review – any feedback would be greatly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Sorry for the delay in posting this! Of course school would get super crazy right after I decide to start this story :-/ But here we go…**

**So I own nothing to do with Twilight, but this little story is all my idea! No stealing!**

**Bella**

Before I even leave my apartment this morning, I know it's going to be one of those days. The hot water runs out halfway through my shower, the toaster burns my bagel even though I set it on the freaking "bagel" setting and I can't find one of my shoes.

When I finally do get myself together enough to head out the door, I'm still feeling disheveled, like I'm forgetting something even though I know I'm not. My luck continues, and the usually easy 15 minute drive from my apartment in the Dupont Circle area of Washington, DC to the Walter Reed Army Medical Center turns into a very difficult 30 minutes full of backups and idiot drivers.

As soon as I walk into the staff room and sit down at my desk, I feel the usual wave of calm and focus wash over me. I love my job.

As a physical therapist at Walter Reed, I don't think it can get much better. It was never my plan to go into amputee rehab, I had actually wanted to go into pediatrics all the way through PT school. An opportunity came up for me to go to the Center for the Intrepid in San Antonio for my final clinical internship, and after 8 weeks I was hooked. So when the internship concluded and they offered me a job, I jumped at the chance.

I wanted to come to DC to be closer to my boyfriend, Mike, but after 3 years at the Center for the Intrepid, I wasn't looking to give up my work with wounded soldiers. It took a while and a lot of paperwork, but I was able to transfer to Walter Reed a few months ago. And I couldn't be happier here. The work is even more fulfilling than my work in San Antonio.

There is no way to describe the satisfaction that comes with being a physical therapist. To spend months with a patient and take them from immediate post-injury status to walking out of the building, being the one to bring them back to function is simply amazing. There is nothing more rewarding for me than being the one to teach those first steps or help a soldier use his new prosthesis to write his child's name.

As usual, I'm reminded of all of these feelings sitting down at my desk going over charts for the day. My first appointment is with a new patient, a soldier just brought in last night from Afghanistan with a trans-tibial amputation.

I head up to his floor, and after checking his status with nursing I head over to his room. The surgery was performed early the previous evening, and the surgeon and rehabilitation doctor have both examined him and are satisfied with the healing so far. He should be good to go. We need to get started on our work as soon as possible. After a quick knock I take a deep breath and head in… you never know what you're going to find in this line of work.

**Edward**

After the blast, I can't seem to get a solid grasp on what's happening around me. It's like all I can get are little sound bites but even then I can't tell what's real.

I feel myself moving, like I'm floating along suspended above the ground with no support. The scenery morphs from the Afghani landscape to the fields behind my childhood home.

I feel peaceful here.

Suddenly I feel as though I am being eaten alive by a slow fire that burns up my leg. This lasts hours, or maybe days or minutes, I can't tell, until I feel the fire burn itself out, smoking like a candle that's reached the end of its wick.

The peaceful feeling returns. I am surrounded by a soft blue haze, almost how I would imagine it would feel to be inside of a cloud.

This doesn't last for long until the flames return, once again moving up my body until they smoke themselves out. It seems to move faster this time, but I can't tell for sure.

The next period of sound bytes are even less distinctive to me. Sometimes I think someone is speaking to me, and I feel the urge to respond, but it feels like I'm too far away from myself to make it happen. Words and feelings float in and around me but I can't process them. I'm not sure, but I think I don't want to process them.

Eventually I'm completely surrounded by white. Just white nothingness. But it's not bad, I think it's actually better than the confusing snippets I was subjected to before.

I feel like I could stay in the white nothingness and be happy for a while.

But even that doesn't last. I know I am moving out of it even before anything around me changes. This time the words seem to be louder, closer. I feel a new feeling in my leg, not like the burning before, but like a constant pressure I could only describe as unpleasant.

Almost as soon as I become aware of the bed and soft pillows underneath of me it's like I'm thrust forward into the present, like when they hit hyperspeed in the movies.

There is beeping, so much beeping. I am aware of every single part of my body and none of it feels good. I want to open my eyes but it feels like they are made of lead. I think I'm on a bed but I'm not sure why I would be there.

I decide to focus on getting my eyes open, because then maybe I can determine everything else that is going on. It takes a good bit of effort but when I finally do I'm surprised to find that I am definitely not anywhere back at our camp.

Just like that I remember the blast. It's not like I've really forgotten per se, more like it had faded to the background but wasn't important.

I'm definitely in the hospital somewhere.

"Edward? Edward, sweetie, are you awake?" I slowly turn my head in the direction of what I think is my mother's voice. I'm starting to put together a picture and an idea of what is going on, but I don't think I like it.

My mother, Esme, is there beside me, sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. Her face looks concerned as her eyes tear up and moves to run her hand through my hair.

"Oh Edward. I'm so glad you're awake. We were all so worried." She tells me, still stroking my hair. It feels good.

"Mom?" I manage to croak out. "What are you doing here? What's going on?" I think that since she's here, things must be bad.

"Some jackwagon Afghanistan kid set off a damned IED, that's what happened. You're lucky you were the furthest from the explosion." I turn to look at the other side of the room and see my father sitting in a chair. Carlisle is a man known for his fun loving disposition, however, today his characteristic grin nowhere to be seen.

"An IED? I was injured? What about everyone else?" I hate that I can only ask questions that sound broken even to my own mind. I have a pit in the bottom of my stomach before I even get the answer.

My mom sighs and grasps my hand with her free one. "I'm sorry honey. You were the lucky one. No one else involved survived." I can't even form words. I don't know what I would want to say but any sounds I try to make get stuck in the back of my throat. I just look at my mom, the disbelief clear on my face.

All of them? Riley? The medics? I can't even wrap my mind around it right now…

"Oh, God, Edward, you have no idea how good it is to see you awake," my mom tells me. I notice her eyes shining with tears and that makes me feel even worse. "You have no idea how scared we were for you."

Still feeling completely overwhelmed, I decide I need a new plan of attack to get this under control. Maybe if I start with the facts I can figure out exactly what is going on.

"So I survived. But I was hurt? What happened to me, Mom?" Almost as soon as the words leave my mouth I begin to become more aware of my body. More specifically, more aware of the fact that my body feels like it was run over by a mack truck.

"Yes, honey. You had a few bad gashes and the doctors said they think you may have sustained a concussion also," she tells me.

Ok, that doesn't sound so bad.

Still holding my hand in hers, my mom places her hand on my cheek again. She takes a deep breath, some of the tears in her eyes finally spilling over.

"Edward, the worst part – the thing is, your leg was – it was so bad.." She cuts off, her speech broken, disjointed, and not at all making sense to me. I can vaguely remember a sense of feeling as though my leg was burning off when I was out of it. Clearly that wasn't completely a figment of my delerium.

"What about my leg?" I ask, looking from my crying mother to my father, his face still glum. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but can't seem to form the words either. Normally I would make fun of him for looking like a fish, but I'm still so confused.

My mother takes a deep breath and gives me a smile, the kind of smile that I know means bad news.

"Your leg took the worst of it honey. They did all they could."

I still don't think I quite understand. They must have something strong in my IV because I swear I'm not usually this dense.

"They did all they could," she says again, "but they weren't able to save it."

"Weren't able to save it?" I ask. "What do you mean they weren't able to save it?"

Just as my mom begins to speak, there is a knock on the door and a small, brunette girl in scrubs walks in with a bright smile on her face.

"Hello Edward!" she says cheerily, "My name is Dr. Isabella Swan, but you can call me Bella. I'm going to be the physical therapist working with you while you're here at Walter Reed."

She walks over to my bed and holds out a hand for me to shake, never breaking eye contact. I'm surprised by her solid grip, and distractedly notice how pretty she really is.

"Umm, hi."

She introduces herself to my parents, my father looking relieved for the distraction and my mother looking slightly distraught.

"You must be Edward's parents. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, we will all be working closely together during your son's recovery."

"Ok, wait, hold on a second." I say, a little more harshly than I had intended. "I need some answers about what's going on here. All I know is I feel like shit and I don't understand what my mom meant when she just told me 'they couldn't save my leg'."

Her smile falters for the first time since she entered the room. She looks at both my parents, who both shake their head at her.

"We didn't really know how to tell him," my father says, "we were trying to when you showed up. He wasn't awake when the doctors came in to examine him."

Bella sighs, moving to stand on the left side of my hospital bed.

"Edward, you survived the explosion but the blast mutilated your leg. It was amputated below the knee."

Her voice fades off as I get random flashes of tidbits of things since the explosion. My leg on fire. Intense pain. Being thrown off my feet.

Looking down and noticing my leg missing.

"Oh my god." I can't hold it together anymore. Bella stops talking as I whip the blankets off my leg.

Sure enough, there's my right leg, looking normal, and there's my left, nothing but a stump that ends a few inches below my knee.

"Holy shit."

**Thanks to everyone who is reading and has put this story on alerts or favorites – I can't tell you how much that means to me! And please, please, PLEASE review… I want to know what you guys think!**

**Also, I will attempt to provide some more information on some of the more medical/rehabilitative aspects of this store if you want. I think it's all pretty interesting and would love to share with anyone who's interested.**

**Thanks again and see you soon!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello again! So apparently it's going to keep taking me about 2 weeks for each chapter. Sorry about the wait! **

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it was, Twilight ain't mine. But the ideas here are, so please don't steal 'em!**

* * *

><p>Amputated. Amputated. Amputated. Amputated<p>

The word plays in my head on repeat.

I'm trying to pay attention to what this girl is telling me and my parents because I get the feeling that it's important, but I can't seem to get past that word. Amputated. Amputee. I know what it means but I can't seem to merge my understanding of it with my understanding of myself. The two do not go together.

I'm Edward Cullen. I'm a solider. I'm an athlete. I'm a man.

I can't see how having one fucking leg can go along with any of those.

"… working on positioning and a few other important things to keep up with in the remaining joints." I catch back on to what the physical therapist is saying as she lowers the rail on the side of the bed.

"We need to make sure that you keep the left leg in a specific position so you don't get a contracture. Basically we want to keep the limb out of a position where the muscles might shorten up on you."

She reaches for my leg and I flinch instinctually. The movement causes a freakishly terrible pain to shoot up my leg and I hiss.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I yell at her.

"Edward!" My mom reprimands me while my father stands up out of his chair.

"Now son," he says, "I know this is a lot to take in, but that's no reason to speak to anyone that way. She's here to help you."

"A lot to take in? A lot to take in would be my unit being involved in a blast. A lot to take in would be getting injured. A lot to take in would be one of my fellow soldiers dying." My arms are flinging and I feel my face getting hot as I continue yelling.

"This is more than a fucking lot to take in! This is totally fucking ridiculous. I wake up in a hospital and I don't even know where the hell I am, my parents are here and you tell me I was involved in a blast where everyone else died and I lost my fucking leg!"

My mom covers her mouth as I see tears run down her cheeks. My father moves towards me but the physical therapist puts her hand up to stop him.

"Edward, I know this is a scary time right now, but you need to calm down. Your rehabilitation needs to effective starting today for it to be successful." She tells me in a soft, calm voice that I know is reserved for moments with difficult patients. She sits down on the side of the bed and reaches for my leg again.

"Seriously, you need to get the fuck away from me right now." I see her eyes widen at my low, threatening tone and she gets up.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone. I'm going to have to come back tomorrow, alright? You don't really have an option at this point. And that's only because it's the end of the day already."

Seriously, this is ridiculous. There is now way this shit is actually happening to me. Who the fuck does she think she is, telling me what I can and can't do? I can't even remember her goddamn name right now.

This whole situation is seriously pissing me off.

"The fuck I don't have an option. Who the fuck do you think you are, telling me I don't have a choice? I'll make whatever choices I want to about whatever I want to make them about !"

Just to prove my point, I decide to make the choice to not be an amputee. I can do that right? If I refuse to acknowledge it, there's no way it can be real.

She opens her mouth to say something, but I quickly cut her off, moving to sit at the side of my bed, trying to ignore the burning pain in the remainder of my left leg.

"I'm done with this shit. I'm getting the fuck out of here." I move to stand up and feel something pulling at my arm. Looking down, I see an IV and pull it out.

"Edward, you need to calm down. You're right, you don't have to do anything you want to do. But you need to be safe right now. Just lay back down and I'll get your doctor, and we can all talk about this." I can hear the panic evident in her tone. Serves her right, thinking she can tell me what I can and can't do with my life right now.

"Fuck that. I'm leaving this bullshit hospital."

I grab the table at the side of my bed and pull myself up to a standing position, a triumphant smile on my face. Take that bossy-know-it-all-physical-therapist-bitch.

"No, no, no, no, Edward, no." She takes a step towards me again, moving like she's going to help me or something.

"I said, leave me alone!" I yell, releasing my grip on the side table as I fling my arm out.

At which point I promptly face plant onto the hospital room floor.

Fuck, that really wasn't what I was going for.

xxx

Once the nurses have come and helped the therapist get me back into bed, my mood is worse than ever.

I can't believe I couldn't even stand up without fucking falling down.

As I'm laying back in bed, continuing with my self pity fest, the door opens and a man with a definite hard edge walks in wearing a white coat.

"Hello Edward, Esme, Carlisle." He says, addressing me and my parents like he knows them.

"You weren't awake when I was here previously, and I've heard it didn't go over so well when Bella came by earlier to start with your PT." He addresses me.

"I'm Dr. Eleazar Denali, the rehabilitation doctor who is overseeing your case. I know this is a big change for you, but this will all work a lot better if you can attempt to cooperate and be an active participant in your own care." He says.

I just look at him, trying to make my stare blank. He goes on, telling me about how lucky I am to be alive after an accident of the magnitude of the one I was involved in and the risks of infection after a traumatic amputation such as mine.

That makes me want to puke. I may be medicated but I'm alert enough to understand he's telling me that the amputation of my leg occurred out there in Afghanistan. I hate feeling like I've literally left such an important part of me back in that country.

The focus of my gaze moves down to where my left foot should be. Dr. Denali continues talking about the procedures that were performed and my prognosis and such, but I can't find it in me to care enough to really pay attention.

"Edward, I won't lie to you," he sighs, gaining my attention again, "this is not going to be an easy process. I won't pretend to try to know how it feels, but you do need to realize how fortunate you are that you are alive. Try to keep that in mind in the next few days."

With what I am sure is supposed to be a reassuring pat on my arm and a handshake with my father, he leaves.

I just continue staring at my foot, as if it will somehow magically reappear.

"Son, your doctor is right. I know you're feeling a lot of terrible things right now, but you are alive and that's the important thing." My father tells me.

"Your mother and I are here for you, okay? Whatever you need from us, that's what we'll do. The hospital has already started helping us look for a temporary apartment around here."

"We're here for you, Edward. You're not alone." My mother's voice is still heavily laced with tears, as it has been all day.

"Honestly guys? I really just want to be alone."

"Alright, Esme, let's run down to that cafeteria and see just how bad the coffee is."

"No guys,"' I say, my exasperation evident in my voice, "can you just please leave me alone for the night? I-I don't know, I just need all this pressure to go away."

"Oh, honey, nobody's trying to pressure you into any-"

"Esme, come on. If he wants to be alone, let's leave him alone." My father cuts my mom off mid-sentence. She opens her mouth like she's about to protest, then decides better of it.

She gives me a tight smile and a nod, and with hugs from both my parents, they're gone.

XXX

After a not so restful night which included frequent wake up calls courtesy of my nurses, alarms and my racing thoughts, I'm woken up by a nurse I haven't seen before.

"Alright kiddo, time to get up and at 'em."

She introduces herself to me as Maggie, and I instantly like her. She's short and a little chubby, most likely in her late thirties or early forties. Her Brooklyn accent is thick, but instead of sounding harsh, she actually sounds like the first person I want to hang out with around here.

"So what do you say to breakfast in the lounge this morning?" She asks me following an extremely embarrassing sponge bath.

"Lounge? I didn't know hospitals had such fun establishments."

"Oh sweetie, the lounge is where it's at. And honestly, I think it would do you some good to quit holing yourself up in this room of yours."

Although it's less embarrassing than the sponge bath, I still cringe when she has to give me an incredible amount of help moving from my bed to a wheelchair. The wheelchair has a little platform for the stump on my left, keeping it straight up and highlighting the amputation for anyone who didn't notice it already.

She wheels me down a few hallways before pushing me into a large room lined with tables full of soldiers in varying states of disability shoveling food in their mouths.

Even though it's slightly different, this is finally a scene I'm somewhat familiar with.

She parks me at a table with some room available and is met with a raucous chorus of jovial greetings from the soldiers already seated there. Apparently I'm not the only member of the Nurse Maggie fan club.

"Alright boys, this here is Edward and he's a newbie. Try not to scare him too much for me, huh?"

"Well seriously Maggie, then you shouldn't have sat him over here if you wanted to keep him out of trouble." The guy sitting to my left jokes with her, his voice heavily with a Texas drawl.

As him and a few other soldiers continue to joke with her, I take a moment to take them in. The Texas guy sitting next to me seems tall and lanky, with a long mop of curly dirty blonde hair almost as unruly as mine. He's eating extremely slowly with one hand, his other arm missing above the elbow.

Across from me is one of the biggest guys I've ever seen in person, tall and broad and just overall huge, even though he's sitting in a wheelchair similar to mine. One of his legs is also propped up, but it's in this cage thing with pins that look like they go straight into his skin. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm not jealous.

"Ok Eddie, I'm going to leave you here with these fools, against my better judgement." She says, handing me a paper. "Here's your schedule for today. I'll see you later."

I glance at the paper and see I have physical therapy in about an hour. Awesome.

"So what are you in for, man?" The huge one asks me. I'm surprised I can make out his words he's shoveling food in his mouth at such a fast rate.

"Ah, I got one of my legs amputated." I'm not really sure what the protocol is for discussing injuries here.

"Well that sucks. They thought they were going to have to chop off mine, but luckily I'm just stuck with this dumb ass contraption." He gestures towards his leg cage thing. "I'm Emmet McCarty by the way. The one armed wonder over there is Jasper Whitlock."

"Nice to meet you guys. Well, you know, even under these circumstances. I'm Edward, Edward Cullen." I'm not really sure what the proper greetings are when two of us are in wheelchairs and the other is missing an arm, so I just sit there.

Jasper gives me a smile between shoving food in his mouth. Suddenly a tray is placed in front of me, with absolutely nothing that resembles anything edible on it.

"Don't worry, it tastes better than it looks," Jasper tells me as I poke at a patty of what I think is supposed to be some sort of breakfast meat.

"Thanks for the advice," I chuckle. "Any other words of wisdom for surviving life in this place?" I ask, attempting to eat.

"Well man, it ain't no barrel of laughs, that's for sure. But don't piss of the nurses or the physical therapists and you should be just fine." Emmett says with a chuckle.

"Uh, why's that?" I say, scratching the back of my neck and trying not to look too sheepish.

"Cause they're the ones who can make your life hell." Emmett says, and I wonder how he can be in such a good mood in his situation.

"Oh. Okay." I'm not really sure what I should say to that.

"Hah! You already pissed someone off, didn't you?" Jasper points at me with the hand he still has intact.

Well, I mean, I don't think really, I just…" I trail off. "Yeah, I don't think my physical therapist is all too happy with me right now."

Emmett lets out a low whistle.

"That's bad news man. Who's been assigned to head up your torture?"

"Shit, I don't remember her name. Short, brown hair? She seemed pretty nice I guess." I still feel bad about what happened, and even worse now that I realize I can't even remember her name. I must have been a little more doped up than I thought the last few days.

"It's Bella, Edward, Bella Swan." A soft, female voice says from behind me. "And it's time for therapy."

"Ooh man. You're in for it." Jasper says between laughs.

"Sounds like you wanna be on my shit list too, Whitlock. We've got a session at 11:00 you know, plenty of time for me to come up with a new, harder treatment plan if you want." She says, still standing behind me.

"No ma'am."

"Calling me ma'am isn't helping your case." She tells him with a laugh, pulling my wheelchair away from the table. "Cullen and I are gonna head out now."

"Bye man! Good luck!" They call out to me as Bella wheels me down the hall.

She doesn't say much as we go, just asks me a few menial questions about how I'm feeling and how my stay was. I attempt to keep my answers as briefly as possible.

We end up in a huge room that looks like some sort of gym, but different than any one I've worked out in before. There are soldiers all around, in different states of injury, walking between railings, on exercise equipment and laying on mats.

"This is the main PT gym, Cullen. You're gonna get to know this place well while you're here."

I make some sort of noise as a response. I still don't see the point in working on anything, at the end of the day I'm still going to be missing my leg.

"Alright." She says, upbeat, though I can tell that's difficult for her to do. "We need to get started today with some education about what you're going to need to keep in mind during this process, then we'll get down and do some real work, okay?"

I sigh, any of the pleasantness of my earlier mood at breakfast completely gone. I didn't have to address this shit there.

"No, not okay. I don't want to do this. I didn't ask to do this. I'm not going to do this. Can't I just get healed up then go home?"

"For a grown man, you sure are acting like a child." She tells me, getting up and grabbing the handles of my chair forcefully.

"Where the fuck are we going now?" I ask, choosing not to address her earlier statement.

"Back to your room."

"Good." I say, glad someone's finally giving me what I want.

"Oh, don't be confused. We certaintly aren't done with this." She says, her voice taking on an authoritative tone I hadn't detected before.

We reach my room and she wheels my chair in, parking me just next to my hospital bed.

For what seems like forever, we just look at each other. She's still standing and I can't believe such a petite woman is making me feel so small in this chair. I can tell she's angry, and as I sit there staring her down I realize it makes her look hot. Like really, really hot.

"Well?" She asks. "Are you going to just sit there all day, or are you going to tell me why you insist on making my life so god damn difficult?"

* * *

><p><strong>Well there we go! Hopefully the longer chapter made up for the wait. Who's jealous of Nurse Maggie getting to give Edward a sponge bath? I know I am…<strong>

**Please, please, please review! **


End file.
